


A Nightmare

by silvercolour



Series: Silver’s Good Omens fills [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cuddles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Canon, chasing away bad dreams with soft hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 11:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24968605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvercolour/pseuds/silvercolour
Summary: Aziraphale has a nightmare- fortunately Crowley is there beside him when he wakes.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Silver’s Good Omens fills [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807201
Comments: 14
Kudos: 45
Collections: Name That Author Round Five: After Dark Redux





	1. Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Name the Author game over on the GO events Discird! Word limit was 500 words- this is the Extended Edition.  
> Cuddles will be in chapter two!

Soho, London; a grim and grey evening.

A door, in the bookshop. It is dignified and wooden and looms quite large between dense packed bookcases.

Aziraphale was quite certain the door had not been there before.

Probably.

After all, this is _his_ bookshop. He’d made it to be exactly as he needed, nothing less, and certainly nothing more. The door is superfluous, nonsensical, and shouldn’t even go anywhere, being set against the outer wall of the shop as it was.

Then again, the same was supposed to be true of his upstairs study, which he had had to enlarge to fit all his extra, too-important-to-be-kept-in-the-shop books.

So the door very well could be there-

Had it been open before?

Aziraphale cannot recall.

Perhaps there’s once more something ineffable afoot, or perhaps Crowley simply forgot to close the door behind him…

But why would Crowley use this door at all? He always used the front door, slammed it, even, much to Aziraphale’s annoyance. 

Come to think of it, when was the last time Aziraphale had seen Crowley? Or spoken to him on the phone even?

As the thought crosses his mind he turns to look for his phone. Crowley was always bugging him to get one of those wireless, cellular devices like the demon owned. Claimed they’re much easier to operate, and far more convenient, because they’re not attached to a wall. ‘Well, how convenient is it really, to have to remember where you last left your phone, dear’, Aziraphale completes their argument in his mind.

It’s a discussion they’ve repeated for a few years now, ever since phones gained the ability to be wireless. Aziraphale maintained that it’s hardly any worse to have a phone attached to a wall, and always know exactly where the thing is.

Except today, it seems.

The little table on which his bakelite phone and little notebook always rested is replaced by-

Was that stain always seeping under the doorway? Through the crack in the door comes no light at all, and the stain that is seeping, creeping from underneath it almost seems to be a part of that same darkness.

How silly, Aziraphale wonders distantly, he has replaced his unmovable phone, whatever will Crowley say when he finds out. His gaze is absorbed by the tall door in his shop, the same way the darkness spreading underneath it sucks in all light…

Crowley.

Wasn’t Crowley here before, visiting him? His thoughts feel like they are hiking through deep snow, a struggle to reach any point at all. Certainly Crowley must have been here before, his glasses are lying there on a bookshelf…

Crowley wouldn’t leave his glasses behind, this Aziraphale knows. Unless- yes, he thinks, that makes sense. Crowley must have taken off his glasses to look beyond this door, it’s so dark back there, obviously one wouldn’t need sunglasses for it.

So where has Crowley gone?

Aziraphale shakes himself; he is an angel, a being of light and hope, whatever this door wants-

When did he walk up to the door?

Did he choose to move here?

(Was the choice made for him?)

Aziraphale takes a step back, twists away; some fresh air should set him to rights, it might be a grey London evening but he can still take a walk, just bring an umbrella-

It isn’t until he grasps the handle of the shopfront door that he realizes it _isn't the shopfront door anymore-_

As if watching a movie he sees his hand not-listen to his command to _let-go-of-the-door_ , but instead twist the knob and open it, spilling the darkness it contained out and out and over him and-

With a gasp, Aziraphale wakes up.


	2. Waking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a little longer than I hoped, but here are the promised cuddles after last chapter’s nightmare!

Aziraphale wakes with a gasp, and lunges upright, arms swinging like he is falling and grasping for a handhold.

He is lying in his own bed, in his own bedroom above the shop. This is so unusual that it takes him a moment to realize where he is, and how he got here.

He never sleeps here, except sometimes Crowley likes to nap there when he visits. And there, lying beside him, is Crowley, without his sunglasses. The demon appears to be trying to wake himself, to see what is wrong with Aziraphale.

The demon liked to sleep. Earlier that day (was it the same day? It felt so very long ago) Crowley had suggested Aziraphale could use a nap too, and Aziraphale had agreed. After some arguing, and on the condition that Crowley would be there with him, to cuddle, just in case Aziraphale couldn’t sleep.

Well, clearly he had fallen asleep. Only his dreams had been less-that-good. Aziraphale remembers having nightmares before. He does not remember what, or why, but they usually seemed to involve Heaven finding out he had Failed Them in Some Way. Not that that Way needed to make sense, of course.

In the way of dreams this could be many things, from wearing the wrong kind tartan to the meeting, to fraternising with demons- well. Perhaps some of the nightmares did make sense in hindsight. But all that was over now. Wasn’t it? Didn’t they stop the Apocalypse before it happened? Or was that a dream as well?

“Mmziraphale, whasswrong?” Crowley mumbles more than asks, still struggling to wake from the warm nest of blankets they’d built themselves.

Aziraphale twists around and grabs Crowley’s shoulder. “What happened at the Apocalypse, Crowley? Did we stop them? Were we on time??”

This is certainly enough to wake Crowley properly. “Wha- yeah, we did, Angel. Everything’s fine, Apocalypse averted, no one died- ‘xcept Death, but we found him that way, remember?”

The attempt at humor sails past Aziraphale at a speed of approximately 50 knots. He only nods, somehow not quite soothed by the knowledge that the world remains safe. What was behind that door in his dream then…

Wasn’t it the shop’s front door? Didn’t he dream he was just going to go outside, for a walk? The dream is already slipping from his mind, through the cracks, retreating back politely closing the door behind itself, as if not wanting to worry Aziraphal

It doesn’t work. Even with the nightmare fled far away, the fear remains with Aziraphale.

“Aziraphale?” In his own name, Aziraphale hears a dozen questions. Everything alright? Should Crowley be worried? Should he prepare to run? To fight? Both? Is there anything he, Crowley, could do to help?

Aziraphale realizes he’s still holding onto Crowley’s shoulder. He makes himself let go of that anchor reluctantly. It made it so much easier to tell himself that what he sees around himself is _real_ , and not still a dream.

And somehow, _somehow,_ Crowley notices. Aziraphale isn’t at all certain how the demon keeps managing to understand his feelings better than he himself does. Every time Aziraphale doubts, or frets, or worries, or even so much as fidgets, Crowley is there. (Perhaps that’s why his absence made the dream so scary?)

As Aziraphale retreats, letting go of Crowley and preparing to hole up on his own side of the bed, Crowley follows him. He takes hold of Aziraphale’s hand and folds into his own like it is something precious. He rolls onto his side, yet somehow manages to cross the full distance of the bed to be face-to-face and nose-to-nose with Aziraphale.

“Hey,” Crowley breathes, and waits for Aziraphale’s response.

“Hey you,” Aziraphale returns, feeling a little silly at the exchange.

“You know you can tell me the truth, right, Angel?” Crowley asks. Seeing Crowley’s eyes up close is… it’s a lot, a joy, and a pleasure to behold their beauty. And it is an honour, because Crowley never, _ever_ allows anyone to see him like this. No one, except Aziraphale. Aziraphale knows he can tell Crowley the truth, but those liquid golden eyes have stolen his words. He simply nods.

Sensing his distraction Crowley rests one hand on Aziraphale’s cheek, the other still holding Aziraphale’s hand close between their chests. “So tell me what’s wrong. Pleasse?”

That a hiss sneaks out speaks of how worried Crowley must be for him. Aziraphale closes his eyes for a moment, and rests his forehead against Crowley’s, feels the warm palm against his skin, breathes in their closeness.

“I’m sorry dearest, it was- I had a nightmare, that's all,” Aziraphale begins. He opens his eyes, and sees the still-worried gaze that holds his own. Suddenly he cannot contain the words, the awful half-knowledge of the nightmare any longer: “I was in the shop, and you weren’t there, only it felt like you were supposed to be there, and I think a door ate you?”

“A door? Ate me?” An arched eyebrow. He doesn’t scoff at the suggestion, doesn’t make light of Aziraphale’s obvious distress. “Really, Angel, no door would be a match for me. I am unmatched amongst doors. You have nothing to worry about.”

A small smile sprouts on Aziraphale’s lips. “I believe you, it’s just- it felt very real, at the time, even though it now sounds very silly to say.”

“‘Course it does, ‘s what dreams are for, aren’t they? They get to be real for as long as we see them, and then when you don’t see them you forget they were ever there,” Crowley smiles in return, and it’s a crooked smile, a knowing smile. “But it’s gone now, isn’t it? And I’m here, and real.”

Aziraphale nods, and feels like perhaps he could swim in those deep, golden eyes that seem to stare right into him.

“And you’re here, and also real, right?” He waits for Aziraphale to nod again. “So how about instead of going back to dreams, we just stay here, as we are?”

Aziraphale squeezes his eyes shut at the swelling wave of pure _love_ inside his chest, and attempts to hide his face against Crowley’s shoulder. His Crowley always knows what to say, how to calm him down (and sometimes also how to rile him up). 

The hand on his cheek stops him from hiding, and instead slides down his cheek to gently take hold of his chin. Before Aziraphale can open his eyes he feels a kiss pressed right between his eyes, then the tip of his nose. Just as he opens his eyes Crowley presses the next kiss to his lips, ever so gently, sharp eyes still looking at Aziraphale.

“Okay?” Crowley asks, and again Aziraphale hears all the questions in that single word: are you going to be okay? Is it okay if we stay here? And: is it okay to kiss you right now?

To all of them, Aziraphale replies: “More than okay,” as he presses a kiss in answer to Crowley’s lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment and let me know what you think, I love hearing from you guys!


End file.
